


The Toll of the Bell

by last-operator-standing (Moooverick)



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Anxiety, Blood, Brainwashing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Male Bell (Call of Duty), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, no beta we die like we just cleared our head in the arctic air
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29926050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moooverick/pseuds/last-operator-standing
Summary: What now? He could roll over and accept the fate thrust upon him and die as Adler intended. Starting a new life away from it all couldn't be that bad either. Or…Or he could finish the mission.
Relationships: Russell Adler/Bell
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	The Toll of the Bell

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this off and on for about a week and a half now, debating if I wanted to share it or not. At first, I just wanted to write out my Bell's death in my own way, and then I kinda thought it would be neat to instead expand it into something a bit more, and through my friend's encouraging I am now sharing. c':
> 
> For the sake of this story, Bell saved Lazar and was forced to leave Park behind, but she still lived. She'll tell her story in ch 2!
> 
> Some of the tagged character don't appear in ch 1 but will soon

"I'm sorry it turned out this way." 

_Why?_ When he tries to speak there's only a pathetic gurgle as the blood spills past his lips. 

"I hope you understand."

_I don't! Why? I told you the truth!_ His chest feels tight, like it's being crushed under an invisible force. Was it always this hard to breathe? To think? He can't be sure anymore. _So why?! Why..?_ His fingers are stained in crimson when he lifts his hand from his chest. _Why did you_ shoot _me?_ The words won’t come out. Trembling, his arm falls back to his side, unable to hold it up any longer.

"It was never personal, Bell." 

There's a pressure in Bell's right hand as Adler presses something into his palm. His fingers twitch against cool metal - _his gun?_ \- but he doesn't have the strength to lift it. He can only stare up at the soft blue sky as his chest burns and he dyes the ground red.

"It wasn't meant to be like this."

_I trusted you._ Then again, he also trusted Arash Kadivar. _Look where that got me._ Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

There's a darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision. Panic builds and it only makes the desperate burning in his lungs worse. He struggles to force air past the fluid. A terrible bubbling resonates in his chest and Bell idly wonders if he'll drown in his own blood before he bleeds out. _I bet this makes you happy._ Adler's face slides into view when he kneels beside Bell: His features are blurry and the colors somehow don't feel right. But he's not smiling. He almost looks.. sad.

A hand slides against Bell's cheek, pressing gently, tilting his head a bit to the right and allowing him a clearer view of his would-be murderer. It's easier now to see how Adler's face is pinched downwards in a grimace. Adler stares down at his dying protégé just as much as he stares back, once vibrant emerald eyes now dull and swimming with uncertainty and betrayal as he teeters on the edge of oblivion. 

Bell wishes he had something else to dwell on in his final moments. Something that was his and not the manufactured memories pounded into his head by Adler and his trigger phrase. He tries to think back to before the CIA, before MK-Ultra, before Perseus. All he comes up with is Adler's smug smile as he wakes him in Vietnam. _Fake._ How Sims and he recovered the Russian comms log during Operation Fracture Jaw. _Fake._ Fending off the VC attack after his bird is knocked from the sky. _All of it, fake._

The anguish of knowing there's nothing left of him- the _real_ him- brings a burning to his eyes. _Who am I?_ Bell doesn't realize he's crying until a gloved thumb brushes a tear from his cheek. 

"Hey." 

Bell's cold. The jacket does nothing to keep him warm. His limbs feel impossibly heavy. Any trail of thought he has slips between his fingers before he has time to complete it. No matter how much he blinks the world stays blurry and he's losing the energy to keep his eyes open. He tries to focus on Adler's face but he's nothing more than a tan smudge against a blue sky. 

Bell's so, so tired...

"You did good, kid."

Deep down Bell knew it was always going to end like this. He was never truly part of the team. That was apparent in the way Sims refused to acknowledge him ( _didn't their time together in Vietnam mean anything?_ ) or in the pitying look Mason would cast his way when he thought Bell wasn't looking ( _like he somehow understood.._ )

Above all he knew from the way Hudson spoke about him.

_Bell? Don't get me started..._

_Are you taking_ him _into the KGB with you? Are you_ crazy _?_

_If we can't control the asset, we end the asset._

Bell's eyes flutter close and they don't open again. The warmth at his side, Adler's warmth, is only there a moment longer before it pulls away and is gone, leaving Bell alone with only the abyss. 

Dying isn't what Bell ever imagined it to be. He feels light, like he's floating amongst the clouds. The coldness has long since seeped away to a numbness and he forgot about the hard concrete below him. Bell can't hear anything, can't feel anything. The abyss swallows him whole. He bathes in its darkness and floats in its silence, drifting through oblivion.

Bell doesn't expect to ever open his eyes again. Without medical intervention, there was no logical way he would survive the bullet in his chest. This makes it all the more jarring when he's dragged into consciousness. He simply lays there at first, the numbness creeping back in and replacing the blissful void of nothingness he felt while unconscious.

It's dark when he finally musters the energy to squint open his eyes. Gone is the calm cliffside in which Adler shot him at. Instead, he's in an unfamiliar room with faded green walls and blankets around him that are far too stiff and cause his aching body to _itch_. There's railings on either side of him, the kind you'd find on a hospital bed or to prevent children from rolling off the side at night. Voices resonate just behind a closed door. They're hushed and aggressive but Bell can't make out what they're saying. When they fall silent the light beneath the door flicks off and he's left with only a digital clock for illumination.

Bell drifts in and out of awareness. He can't keep track of the passing time. On one occasion there's movement at his bedside and voices filling his ears.

"..ell? B…?" 

"Is.. wake..?"

"Damn.. all, he… again.."

"Bell?"

When he looks up, their face is too blurry to make out. Someone joins them at his side, but they are too fuzzy to see as well. Their voices sound like they're speaking underwater; too far and too jumbled to make out. Moments later he's unconscious once more.

It's night again once Bell is able to stay awake properly. He feels heavy but warm and the room spins when he tries to look around. It's not until he tries to raise a hand to calm the spinning that he realizes something is wrong. He only manages to lift his arm a few inches before something stops him. Confused, he tries tugging a few times. A metallic jingle fills his ears. Looking over confirms his suspicions: He's handcuffed to the railing. Swallowing down the building panic, Bell tries the other arm only to find it just as restrained to the opposite railing. 

He tries to keep calm. He really does. But it's all too much for him; he should be dead, he knows that. Not chained up inside an unfamiliar room with no idea how or when he got here, or who brought him here in the first place. A memory forces itself to the front of his mind.

_Bell woke up to voices. "I gotta admit," the first voice, American, rumbled, drawing his attention. It took some effort but Bell managed to lull his head towards the speaker. Two individuals peered down at him. "I didn't expect him to recover so quickly." His limbs were restrained, preventing any movement. "He's a resilient one," the second person agreed. Bell did his best to hold back his fear and anxiety. This certainly wasn't Perseus nor the KGB, which only meant he was now in the hands of the enemy. He wouldn't let them break him._

_Not again._ Bell fights against his restraints as hysteria begins to take hold. _I can't do this again._ Losing his mind once was too much; no way he could withstand being reset a second time. A rapid _beep-beep-beep_ fills his ears but the Russian is too fixated on freeing himself to pay it much attention. A light flips on beneath the door, encouraging him to struggle all the more. 

"Bell!" The door flings open. There's hands on his shoulders. "Bell, you're safe!" He thrashes. The light flicks on. "What's going on?" The hands leave Bell's shoulders and move to the sides of his head, forcing him to turn wide-eyed toward a familiar face. "Bell, hey, calm down," Lazar sooths.

Bell falls still from exhaustion. His chest heaves with each rapid breath. Eyes wide, he stares between Lazar at his side and Park, who stands tense at the door. 

"Bell-"

"Lazar, what's going on-"

"Park, not now-"

"I knew we couldn't trust him."

"Park, please! You're not helping." The MI6 agent scoffs but relents, leaving Lazar alone with Bell. 

Bell trembles with a fear like he's never felt before. "Bell," Lazar tries again with a weak smile. "It's alright. You're safe. We're at an MI6 safehouse. I'm, uh… sorry. About the cuffs. It's the only way Park would agree.."

"How..?" Bell only manages a croak, throat tight. 

"Call it a hunch," Lazar offered. "I knew something was off with Adler. Followed you guys. Got there after everything already went down. We tried to patch you up the best we could with the equipment we have here. You've been out for a few days." Bell calms himself and listens intently. The exhaustion is clear on the Russian's face. 

"I just.. I feel like I owe you, Bell. You saved my life back in Cuba." Lazar sighs softly. "Park is.. weary. She thinks you'll turn on us now that you've, well," he motions awkward towards Bell. "Now that you've begun to break your programming." 

Lazar's face turns serious when he stares into Bell's eyes. "I didn't think it was fair to cut you out of the picture before you had the choice to decide who you really are." 

_The choice to decide who I really am..._

The distress must be noticeable on Bell's face because Lazar suddenly lightens up with a smile and gentle squeeze to his shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. It'll take time, but I'm sure you'll figure it out. You chose to tell the truth, you can't be all that bad, eh?" 

Bell's head is a hurricane of emotion despite Lazar's teasing reassurance. Aside from his meeting with Perseus, the implanted memories, and everything that's happened to him in the past couple months, Bell knew nothing about himself. _Am I righteous? Am I a terrorist? Just? Prejudice_? If he's honest with himself.. he was terrified of the truth. It was so much easier to be told who he was, to do what he was told, to put his trust in the team and his life in Adler's hands.

_Adler._

"Get some rest." Lazar's voice shakes Bell from his thoughts. "We can talk more tomorrow, sort everything out. Don't worry about Park- she's suspicious but she wouldn't hurt you." Somehow, Bell isn't entirely convinced. He doesn't comment on it. 

".. _Spasiba,_ Lazar. For saving me." 

Lazar pauses at the door and turns. His surprise turns into another small, genuine smile. "No problem, Bell."

Alone once again in the dark, Bell takes a shaky breath. He doesn't realize he's clenching his hands until he feels the ache. It takes some time but he relaxes the best he can and takes stock of his condition. Head throbbing, chest burning, mind buzzing with uncertainty and raw with emotion, but undeniable _alive_. 

_"It's always been for the greater good."_

There's a feeling he can't quite shake. It brings apprehension. Bell's not sure what will happen next. Will his would-be rescuers turn him in? Will Adler come back to finish the job? _Will I ever get my memory back?_ Many questions burn in the Russian's head and not many answers come to mind. What now? He could roll over and accept the fate thrust upon him and die as Adler intended. Starting a new life away from it all couldn't be that bad either. Or…

_Or_ he could finish the mission. 

Whoever he was before Bell may never know. It doesn't matter; that person is dead. The CIA reinvented him and gave life to 'Bell'. Now he has to live with that. Whether or not they like it they gave him a job. Find Perseus and stop him. 

He found Perseus once.

He'd find him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing in present tense is a habit, but if you find that feeling disruptive while reading, please let me know!!  
> I wasn't entirely happy with this chapter, primarily the scenes with Lazar, but I needed to set up for a future scene so I'm just hoping it wasn't too poopoo lmao  
> Thank you so much for checking out this work <3 I'd love to hear what you think ;u;
> 
> i have no idea how many chapters there will be, but I intend to force these two to love and cherish each other no matter how much work i need to put in >:(


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